Five Portraits

by Piers Anthony

  Astrid paused, not wholly positive about this. “I’m not sure we want to enter a dungeon.”

  “But it’s the way out,” Win protested.

  “That’s not typical of dungeons,” Astrid said. “They are better known for having no way out.”

  “We don’t think there is any other way out,” Firenze said. “We know it looks bad, and we may not like it much, but that’s the route.”

  “Our alternative being to remain among the mad birds and prigs indefinitely,” Astrid said with a sigh. “Hoping that whoever folded up the park and stole the matchbox will change his mind and let us go.”

  “Not if it means someone else gets bleeped,” Firenze said.

  “Ooo!” Win and Myst said together. “You tried to swear!”

  He glanced at them. “When I get older I’ll swear a blue steak if I want to.” A blue streak stabbed from his forehead, exploding into a blue fireball.

  “So will we,” Win said enthusiastically. “Or at least a pink streak.” Then she glanced at Astrid. “Can big girls swear?”

  Astrid smiled. “Yes, if they have reason.”

  “So do we go down?” Squid asked.

  Astrid sighed again. “Yes, I think we have to. But stay close to me, in case I have to stare someone. And you be ready with a limited hole, when I tell you, Santo.”

  “Yes’m,” the boy agreed.

  Astrid stepped down inside the trench, the children following. They reached the DUNGEON door. It had a big handle. Would there be a similar one inside, that they could work to get out again? Well, Santo could make a hole in the door if he needed to.

  Then she thought of something else. “Myst, if you had to go through a solid door like this one, could you mist out and do it?”

  “Not through the wood. But I could mist through the keyhole, or under the door.”

  “That will probably do. I’m just making sure we can’t be trapped inside.”

  “We can’t be,” Santo agreed.

  Astrid worked the handle. It moved, and the door swung inward. Inside was a cave lighted by burning torches. It wasn’t clear what fuel they burned; maybe they were magic. At least their party could see where they were going.

  Not that it helped much. The cave was huge, with many passages leading away and down. They could readily get lost in it. They were already lost to a degree; there was no sense and making it worse.

  “Where do we go from here?” Astrid asked somewhat rhetorically.

  The children got together, briefly linking hands. “That way,” Firenze said, pointing to a reasonably obscure opening in a wall. “Except—”

  There were too many excepts! But Astrid tackled it. “Except what?”

  “There’s danger. But the other routes are worse.”

  “The last time we took a course with danger, we got folded up into the Playground,” Astrid said severely.

  “We’re sorry,” Squid said.

  Astrid was immediately sorry herself. “It’s not your fault, dear.” She glanced at the other children. “None of your faults. We discussed it, and the adults agreed. We risked it, and paid the price, because we really didn’t have much choice. A Demon may be messing us up, indirectly. But it is annoying.”

  The children stood silently, waiting for her to finish. So she did. “We’ll go that route. Do you have any idea what the danger is?”

  “Just all around,” Squid said.

  “Then stay close to me and be alert. If you see me taking off my glasses, do not look at my face. You know why.”

  “We know,” Myst said.

  Astrid marched into the opening, the children close behind. Almost immediately there was a problem: it was dark. Astrid could handle darkness, especially in her native form, but she wasn’t sure about the children. “Um, maybe we should take a torch.”

  They backed out and Astrid went to take the nearest burning torch. It wouldn’t come. It was fixed in place. “Bleep,” she muttered.

  “I can help,” Santo said.

  “Do it,” Astrid said, stepping back.

  Santo pointed at the base of the torch. It disappeared, and he neatly caught the torch as it dropped. “I made a hole the same size as the base,” he explained. “So there was nothing there to hold it anymore.” He proffered the torch to her.

  “Keep it,” Astrid said. “You can be our torchbearer.” But privately she wondered what would happen if he made a similar hole in someone’s neck. He might be as dangerous to others as Astrid herself was.

  He picked up on her expression. “I know. My talent can be dangerous. So I don’t use it much.”

  “The way I don’t use mine,” she agreed, squeezing his shoulder.

  “Yeah. I guess you understand.” He grimaced. “I’m not very adoptable.”

  “We’ll find someone,” she said, hoping it was true.

  They resumed their progress through the cave passage, now with light. It wound deviously around as if trying to lose them, before opening out into a rock garden. All manner of intriguing minerals were displayed: garnets, streaks of copper, silver, gold, and sparkling faceted gemstones.

  “It’s a mine,” Firenze said, impressed.

  “For when they need something in a game,” Santo agreed.

  “Hey—who are you?” a gruff voice demanded behind them.

  They turned as a group to discover a squat ugly goblin male, redundant as the description was.

  “We are just travelers passing through,” Astrid said.

  “Well, get out of here. This is restricted territory.”

  “We would like to,” Astrid said. “What is the best route out?”

  “Anywhere that isn’t here, slut. And give back that torch you stole, brat.”

  Astrid reined in her ire. This actually was what passed for politeness, goblin style.

  Santo frowned. “Stole? We need it for light.”

  “Too bad, creep. Give it back.” The goblin reached for the torch.

  Firenze stepped in, knowing that insulting either Santo or Astrid was dangerous. “You are beginning to annoy me, goblin. Don’t do that. You wouldn’t like me when I’m annoyed.”

  “Yeah, bleep for brains?”

  “Yeah.” Firenze’s face began to change color. Astrid did not rein him in.

  “Well, can it, fizzle face. You’re in goblin country. Make any trouble and you’ll wind up in the cook pot.”

  Fireworks began erupting from Firenze’s head. “Are you sure you want to annoy me, poop face?”

  The goblin gazed at the erupting display and reconsidered. He backed off. “I’ll be back,” he promised as he retreated.

  The other children dissolved into laughter. “You sure fried him,” Win said gleefully.

  “Well played, Firenze,” Astrid said. “But we are indeed in goblin country, and had better move on before he returns with a gaggle of goblins.”

  They moved on, passing the mining outcrops. “What’s a slut?” Myst asked.

  “A goblin insult for any girl,” Astrid said. “Don’t use that term yourself.”

  “Oh, like jerk for a boy.”

  “Close enough,” Astrid agreed.

  The route led down to an underground lake. It was surrounded by stone walls; there was no way around it. There did seem to be a continuation of the route beyond it. “Ooo, we can swim!” Squid exclaimed, dipping her toe.

  Immediately a fin appeared, slicing through the dark water, and teeth snapped as she yanked her foot back. This was evidently not a people-swimming lake.

  Now there was a clamor behind them. The goblin horde had gathered and was in pursuit. “I think we need to get across that lake,” Astrid said. “Promptly.”

  “How?” Firenze asked.

  “There’s a raft,” Santo said. So there was, moored at the water’s edge. It had small rails around the edge and a mast in the center with a furled sail.

  “But no paddle,” Myst said. “And we can’t even use
our hands.”

  The clamor behind them was growing rapidly louder. It sounded like not a few, but a few hundred angry goblins. Way too many to stop without considerable carnage, assuming she could Glare them all. Astrid knew she had to think of something in a hurry.

  “Win,” she said. “Can you increase the wind at your back?”

  “Sure, but it really messes up my hair.”

  “You look cute with your hair forward,” Santo said.

  “Really?” Win was pleased.

  “Get on the raft,” Astrid told them urgently. They piled on, sitting in the center except for Win at the edge, facing in. She joined them there, and cast off just as the goblins burst onto the scene. “Unfurl the sail, boys.” Firenze and Santo did so, with Astrid taking the torch. “Increase the wind,” she told Win. “A lot.”

  Suddenly a blast of air passed the child and filled the sail. Astrid feared it would blow out the torch, but the torch clung desperately to its fire. Maybe it had come up against high winds before and knew how to balk them. The raft leaped forward, tilting dangerously.

  “They’re getting away!” a goblin cried angrily. The others milled about, keeping their toes clear of the water.

  “Why aren’t they throwing their spears?” Squid asked, looking back.

  “’Cause they don’t want to lose them in the water,” Firenze said.

  That seemed to be so. The goblins watched helplessly as the raft fairly skidded across the lake. “You’ll be soor-ry!” a goblin called.

  Myst made a face and waggled her hands at her ears, teasing the goblins. “Nyaa nyaa, blips!”

  “Ooo, what you said!” Squid said appreciatively.

  “Well, I can’t say bleep yet.” Then she looked surprised. “Did I say it?”

  “You don’t need to,” Astrid said. “But just so you know, you can’t say it as swearing, because of the Adult Conspiracy. But you can say it as a technical term. That’s not swearing. Just as you children are able to say Poop as long as it’s descriptive and not cussing.”

  “That’s weird,” Squid said.

  “The whole Adult Conspiracy is weird,” Firenze said. “When I grow up I’m going to get rid of it.”

  “Yea!” The other children applauded.

  Astrid did not comment. Somehow, no matter how determined they were to eliminate it, when children grew up they joined the Conspiracy. That was part of its weirdness.

  “Why did they think we’d be sorry?” Santo asked.

  “Maybe they were just trying to scare us,” Firenze said.

  Again, Astrid did not comment. She feared the goblins weren’t bluffing. What was waiting for them?

  “Is there something down below?” Myst asked. “I see a dim glow.”

  “Some seaweed is phosphorescent,” Astrid said. “That is, it glows.”

  “Neat! I want some.”

  “But the sharks are in the way,” Firenze reminded her. “They think little girls are the tastiest.”

  “Blip.”

  They reached the far side. “Douse the wind,” Astrid told Win. The gale shut down, leaving the girl with only her normal flutter of hair in her face.

  The raft nudged the bank. There was a tying post there. But before they could disembark, there was a scuttling sound. Astrid poked the torch forward, its flickering light showing what was there. Oh, no!

  “Nickelpedes!” Firenze said. “They’ll gouge out nickel-size disks of our flesh!”

  “Now we know,” Santo said.

  They sat on the raft, just offshore, as the vicious insects thronged at the brink, clicking their pincers. It was definitely not safe to land.

  “I think we need to think of something else,” Santo said grimly. “I could make a hole through them, but it would just fill in from the sides.”

  “I could poke them with the torch,” Astrid said. “But there would be the same problem. Same difficulty with Staring them; only those that met my gaze would die, and they really don’t use eyesight much.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Squid said. “I can swim pretty well. I could fetch some of that seaweed.”

  “From the lake?” Astrid asked. “Don’t even think of it.”

  But Firenze was more understanding. “Your ancestors are sea folk.”

  “Mocktopuses,” she agreed. “We can imitate more things than people. I can look like a poisonous snake. The sharks will scare.”

  This was interesting. “But what use is seaweed? The glow won’t bother the nickelpedes.”

  “Where I come from, glowing things are poisonous. Maybe they are here too.”

  “But would the nickelpedes be stupid enough to eat it?”

  “And some taste good,” Squid said. “Creatures eat them, and they die, and then the seaweed eats them. Maybe this is that kind.”

  “But the sharks aren’t dead,” Santo said.

  “Do sharks eat greens?”

  Santo laughed. “I don’t think so. I get your point: anything that does eat the seaweed maybe dies.”

  “Like nickelpedes,” she agreed.

  “Maybe you have something here,” Astrid said. “But since you aren’t poisonous, I think it’s too risky for you to go down there.”

  “I wonder,” Firenze said. “How poisonous can you look, Squid?”

  Squid dissolved into the semblance of a cobra with a bright orange bra. She hissed and struck at him. The other children screamed, and he almost fell into the water. Astrid was amazed; the child did indeed look deadly.

  “I don’t like to have you take such a risk, but maybe it will do,” Astrid said. “You certainly scared us.”

  “Okay,” the cobra said, and slithered into the water, where it became a brightly colored poisonous jellyfish.

  Fins converged, hesitated, then retreated. They knew poison when they saw it.

  They waited tensely while Squid was below, out of sight. How long could she hold her breath? Or did she need to?

  Then a mass of glowing seaweed floated up. It had a sweet, pleasant smell, like fresh candy. Firenze reached for it, but hesitated. “Is it poisonous to touch, or just to eat?”

  “Both,” Squid’s voice answered from the middle of the mass. “I’ll do it.”

  The seaweed moved to the bank. Then Squid jumped to the rack, in her octopus form, hauling seaweed after her. She ran among the nickelpedes, dragging the weed along so that it formed a long double string behind her.

  “How can she handle it, then?” Firenze asked.

  “I’m immune, silly!” she called.

  The nickelpedes seemed briefly taken aback by this spectacle. Then they rallied and pounced on the glowing, tasty-smelling seaweed, gouging out chunks of it to consume. For at least a moment and a half they reveled in this unexpected meal.

  Then they started screaming. Astrid was startled; she had never heard a nickelpede scream before. They writhed, waving their claws about. Some rolled over on their backs, dying.

  It did not take the rest long to catch on. They retreated. In another half moment the flickering torchlight showed no living nickelpedes. Squid had cleared the field.

  The little girl reformed. She walked to the water, jumped in, then out again, rinsing off. “I did it!” she said, pleased.

  “You sure did,” Santo said. “My talent can be dangerous. So is Aunt Astrid’s. Welcome to the club.”

  Aunt Astrid? Well, why not? “Congratulations, Squid,” she said. “You may have saved our lives.”

  “I was just lucky it was poisonous,” Squid said modestly.

  They walked on along the seaweed path, careful not to touch any of it with anything but their shoes. Soon it gave out, but the nickelpedes did not reappear; they had been thoroughly traumatized. Then Astrid corrected her thought, for the benefit of the children, in case she had to explain: scared, rather than traumatized.

  They came to another subterranean, or rather, underground river. Rivers seemed to serve as the boundaries between se
ctions of the dungeon. This one also had a raft, but it was moored on the other side. It seemed that no one stayed long in the nickelpede domain. Astrid was sure it wasn’t safe to swim.

  “I can fetch it,” Squid said eagerly.

  “If you can do it safely,” Astrid said.

  “I can cover her,” Santo said. “I can put a hole in any fin that comes after her.”

  “You won’t need to,” Squid said. She jumped into the water, assuming the likeness of a shark. When the fins converged, all they saw was one of their own kind.

  “Neat,” Santo said.

  “I heard that!” the shark called back.

  But that alerted the real sharks that there was something different about this one. They converged—and sheared off, because Squid had released a cloud of black. Not only did it conceal her, it looked downright inedible, if not dangerous. It was evidently another trick of her species.

  “That’s neat too,” Santo murmured, keeping his voice low.

  The raft bobbed as it was untied. Then it moved toward them. Squid was pushing it from below. Soon it came up against the near bank, and Astrid caught its rope. “We’ve got it,” she called.

  Squid popped up. “That was fun. I never was able to do that much before.”

  “You are a creature of many talents,” Astrid said. “Some family will be lucky to have you.”

  Squid frowned as she flopped out of the water. “I don’t want to go to some family. I want to stay with all of you.”

  “You’ll stay with us, via the Playground,” Santo said. “Wherever you are.”

  “I guess,” Squid said unenthusiastically.

  “We have to save Xanth,” Firenze said, almost regretfully.

  They boarded the raft, and Win blew them across, as before. There was no wind behind her; it seemed to form at her back and blow forward.

  Now they faced a new network of passages. The children linked hands and concentrated on one, and they walked that way. But they were nervous; danger remained.

  This tunnel opened into a large cavern with many stalactites and stalagmites. Some connected to each other, but most were separated, looking like huge long teeth. Astrid remembered that the way to tell the names apart was the center letter: if it was a C, that meant Ceiling, hanging from, while G meant Ground, rising from. It was also somewhat like an odd forest that had only treetrunks and parts of treetrunks, no foliage.